


Something Forgotten

by Lillio



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Amnesia, Angst, Fluff and Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-09
Updated: 2018-10-09
Packaged: 2019-07-28 17:59:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16246889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lillio/pseuds/Lillio
Summary: Summary: After Asra brings the apprentice back to life, the two of them are linked by their shared heart. This has unusual consequences, and the apprentice begins to experience Asra's memories as if they were his own. (m!apprentice OC)





	Something Forgotten

The first thing Elion became aware of was that he was kneeling in the dirt. He was covered in a cold sweat, and looking down, he found that his fingers were shaking. His hands were dirty, covered in fresh earth that he realized he must have pulled up in handfuls. The ground around him was littered with holes of varying size and depth, none of which he had any recollection of digging. He could see the distinctive, evenly-spaced score marks of fingers tearing through the soil. Whatever he was doing, he was desperate. The soil was everywhere, scattered over his shirt, his pants, even lodged under the beds of his nails. Elion tried to stand, but his legs were unsteady, numb from cold and sleep. He only noticed then that his teeth were chattering.

He couldn’t say how he’d gotten here or how long he’d been sitting like this, but from the rather thorough job he’d done of destroying the yard, he suspected it had been some time. He’d been about to try to rise again when he heard a voice from behind him.

“Elion? Elion!”

Suddenly there were hands on his shoulders, and someone was touching him, the palms of their warm hands pressed flat against his cheeks as they knelt before him.

“Asra?” he asked, a hesitant palm coming to rest over the magician’s hands on his face. Asra took his cold hand in between both of his own and brought it to his lips. “Oh, thank the Gods. Here you are. You’re with me now, you’re alright.” He said, out of breath, like he’d been running.

The shine of the magician’s eyes was more intense than usual, his face contorted with something Elion couldn’t put a name to. Before he could ask, Asra had pulled him into his arms. The warmth of the embrace had him melting, fingers bunching in the fabric of his scarf, breathing him in.

When Asra finally broke away from the embrace, the odd look on his face was gone.

“Where am I?” Elion asked, his hands still balled against Asra’s chest, unwilling to lose the warmth of him just yet. “I feel…My head hurts. What happened?” Asra shook his head. “You were just sleep walking again. It will be alright. Let’s get you home and clean you up, alright?”

But Elion hesitated.

His gaze dropped to his own hands. In the darkness, the dirt on them almost looked black. Like coal. Like ash. His vision began to swim.

He could hear Asra’s voice as if from far away, and almost drowned out by the thrumming of his own blood in his ears. He could feel his body going limp in his arms, or not so much feel it as sense that this was what must have happened.

And then he was in a boat. It was night, still. The moon was low in the sky, and the choppy, black waves rocked his body against the sides of his small rowboat. There was darkness everywhere except for a pinprick of light ahead. He could make out fire and clouds of smog, thick and almost black with ash. Something in his gut twisted at the sight of it and he could feel the panic rising in him like a storm about to break.

Not there. Anywhere but there. But the arrow on his compass was sure. Even if jerked with every movement of the boat, it always flicked back towards that wretched island, beckoning him towards the looming silhouette of the Lazaret.

Elion’s eyes shot open wide, his breath coming back to him all at once. Asra was all around him now, holding him flush against his chest, his face buried in Elion’s neck. His shirt was wet where Asra’s cheek had been, and Asra could do little now to conceal the tears that streaked down over his cheeks, clumping together his lovely white eyelashes.

When he had the bearings to move his limbs again, Elion raised an unsteady hand to Asra’s face. He traced the line of his cheek with his thumb, following the path of a tear backwards to wipe it from his face. Asra’s eyes widened.

Elion’s hand dipped lower, tracing along his jawline back to the curve of his ear and down to the point of his pulse in his neck. He pressed two fingers into the artery there, feeling the tempo of the gentle thudding increase with his touch. Elion could almost imagine that the beat mirrored his own.

Asra’s breath hitched.

Elion pushed the folds of his shirt open, his hand splayed out over the plane of his chest.

“You know.” Asra breathed, his voice quiet, afraid. Under his fingers, the mark of the seal glowed a pale blue, dancing over the brown of his skin.

“Asra, something like this… Why would you do this for me?” his voice was barely a whisper, caught in his closing throat. He was afraid he already knew the answer.

“I was selfish before, but I would do anything to keep you safe. I would have given my whole heart to bring you back. Just half of it seemed like a bargain.” Asra laughed, his eyes still downcast.

Tears welled in his violet eyes, paving wet tracks down his cheeks anew. His fingers clenched in the fabric at Elion’s shoulders. “It’s been so hard not to tell you. Not to be able to touch you.”

Elion’s heart—or was it Asra’s?—felt like it might break.

He took Asra gently into his arms, cradling his head against his breastbone, his nose buried in soft, cloud-white hair. The ache in his chest told him that this was right. That this was how they should be, or perhaps how they had been, many times before.

He pressed a kiss to his temple, a hand under his chin lifting his dewy eyes up to his own. He could feel him stiffen against him. The anticipation of getting closer had him frozen, reddened eyes wide. Elion pulled him in, bridging the gap between them. His lips brushed Asra’s, and the magician’s hands came up to cover his own, surer now. He leaned into the kiss fervently, his fingers tightening around Elion’s.

Kissing him was fluid, natural. As easy as breathing. And he realized that he remembered now: all the ways in which Asra liked to be kissed, how to touch him, where. Even if he could not quite remember kissing him before, something in him knew that if he gripped his lower lip between his teeth and pulled just so…

“Oh.” Asra gasped, eyes half lidded. “…I always did like when you did that.”

“I’m remembering things, I think.” Elion laughed. But his smile wavered slightly. Something was distinctly wrong.

“But there’s something…”

“What’s wrong?” Asra asked, and Elion could feel his eyes on him, but he couldn’t make himself meet his gaze.

“It’s like…almost like they’re not mine.”

Asra was silent a moment. Long enough that Elion had to look up to gauge what he was thinking. His brows had knitted together.

“…I was afraid of that.” Asra murmured.

“You’ve got part of my heart, Elion. Of course, you did before this too. But physically, now. You and I are linked.” He explained.

“These memories are dangerous for you. I need to… let me take them from you. Please, Elion. I know it’s not what you want to hear, but I can’t risk a repeat of last time.”

“Last time? You’re telling me you’ve taken my memories before?”

“You have to understand, I had to. No one wants you to remember than I do, but your body is new and fragile.” He explained, his forehead wrinkled apologetically. “You still aren’t ready. You need to remember on your own.”

Elion was aware now of the return of his headache, pulsing in his temples, making his skull feel too-tight. He grit his teeth against it. “I can take it. I want to remember now.” He insisted. “How am I supposed to go back to being your… what–your student?”

“It’s what’s best—”

“Don’t tell me what’s best for me! I want—” But Elion’s eyes widened suddenly, and it was all he could do not to double over. The pain in his chest was exquisite. “Asra, what…” he tried, but his breath was lost to him, like he’d been hit swiftly in the diaphragm. His headache had his vision swimming.

“It’s alright, Elion. Breathe. Focus on your breathing, remember?” he could hear Asra saying, and he lowered him to lie with his head in his lap. He tried, to his credit, but every lungful of air he drew felt like fire. Elion could feel Asra’s hands carding through his hair soothingly, and he was grateful for the distraction.

He could hardly hear over the ringing in his ears, but if Elion closed his eyes, he could make out Asra’s voice, soft and strangely peaceful. “…Thank you for this. Even if it was just for a few minutes, I needed this.”

Perhaps he thought Elion couldn’t hear, or realized that even if he could, he wouldn’t remember. He couldn’t help but laugh, a hoarse, ragged thing, and he managed to reach a hand out to take one of Asra’s, giving it as much of a squeeze as he could muster. “What’s a little headache? If it means I get to kiss you again, I’ll do this every night.” he teased, a smile pulling the corners of his lips.

Asra’s shoulders were shaking, though whether with laughter or tears, he was too far gone to tell. His vision had long since faded out to a hazy blackness.

“Forget, Elion.”


End file.
